The First Kwisatz Haderach
by Neemwit
Summary: In the beginning of Dune:Messiah, Scytale mentions that the Tleilaxu created a Kwisatz Haderach long before the Bene Gesserit-- this is his story.
1. Chapter 1: Aer'rhi

  
Our molecules are the same molecules as those that make up a tree, this shuttle, and the nebula out there. A human is the universe given form, and the chance to make change. We are the stuff of stars, Katreda.  
-Taelyn, Lord Protector of the Realm  
From the Journals of Aer'rhi, qran'Acolyte 2nd Plateau  
  
  


**Chapter 1: Aer'rhi**  
  


Aer'rhi (a 'yr rhee) woke to a cold, piercing ray from His ceiling light which had found a way through the acalyte's heavy bed sheets. He dropped the rough woolen fabric which had covered him throughout the cold resting period and stepped off the end of the tilted resting pallet where it crumpled. His neck was sore from having to hold his head up all night, but Aer'rhi quickly asked Him for forgiveness. The practically upright pallet was just one of His many challenges to overcome on the way to becoming High Interpreter.  
He quickly gasped out a breath, forgive the ambition displayed by this humblest servant, my thoughts are so often beyond my control- as You of course know- and I would never in all conscious action do not but worship You and Your wisdom until the end of Your mercifully granted years to me. Protect Tleilaxu and deliver Tleilaxu from powindah evil.  
Aer'rhi continued his prayer for another thirteenth of a day cycle, and, feeling fulfilled, bowed deeply to His mechanical Eye which perched in a high corner of the cell and on occasion called him to one of His Holy Assemblies, qran'Orqgía (kwran ork 'hee ya). Aer'rhi tried not to look at or touch the passage of the Holy Legacy he had painstakingly carved into the stone slab covering the entrance to the sleeping cell, while trying to move it aside and look sternly holy at the same time. He stepped into the well-lit, soft orange hallway of the subterranean temple Anonc on an insignificant moon of the Bene Tleilax homeworld and deeply inhaled stale air. A new day to pay homage to the His greatness--  
The thoughts he believed his god gave him were interrupted. There were the last words of a loud argument, a lasgun burst, and two seemingly louder groans, all in the space of two heartbeats, followed soon after by a crash. Dust billowed out from the wall half a dozen cells to Aer'rhi's left; the sounds must have come from the other side of it. Other acolytes pressed themselves against walls or hid in unoccupied cells to pray for deliverance from the high volumns which were alien to the stern temple's population.  
Aer'rhi had been scared before-- the life of a Tleilaxu was ruled by fear of God, those higher in the hierarchy, and punishment. He'd never had a break in his routine before, though. Always when there was fear it was shared with others tardy for His Holy Assembly, or for another who'd been chosen to leave the religious caste to work for a Master. The Masters were fearsome in themselves: they were the geneticists who explored the most profoundly beautiful aspect of His Universe, creating new ways for the Bene Tleilax to adapt to a universe of change. Masters had to be both infinitely brilliant and infinitely cruel for their task. It was whispered that they grew new Tleilaxu in axlotl tanks-- damning heresy which contaminated any who spoke or heard it, for only He creates!  
Aer'rhi's found himself stumbling toward the wall, which he could now see had a pattern of hairline cracks radiating from a center point four feet from the ground. He began to pray again and broke into a run, the slap of his sandals on the floor the only sound. The barrier was missing from the cell the wall adjoined, and he barely slowed before bursting into the tiny room. A large, thickly covered book just inside the door frame tripped the young acolyte. He had time for a single thought before his chin met the stone floor.  
_Not the Holy Legacy tome! Forgiveness! Forgiveness!_  
  
  
Rolling slowly onto his back, Aer'rhi assessed the damage his fall had done to him. His mouth was numb and his hand came away bloody from his face, but he could feel only a few scrapes on his palms and knees. He managed to sit up and, remembering where was, snapped his head around to scan the cell. His brain felt to large for his skull, his ears rang, and tears blurred his vision, but Aer'rhi could tell he wasn't alone. A young man, no more than sixteen, but no less foreboding because of his youth squatted in the center of the cell, face concealed by shadows. He was balanced on his toes, and looked as if he could hold the position for hours without lapse, a quiet but powerful demonstration of strength and dexterity.  
From his well crafted boots to delicately gloved fingers, he was dressed entirely in a barely reflective black material Aer'rhi couldn't name. It was supple and strong, and appeared to tightly conform to the shape of the man's body, though it stretched easily when required. Nowhere in the bodysuit was there unnecessary adornment, and only neck and head were exposed over the high collar. Over his back was a large lasgun rifle whose make and model was one traditionally employed only by the elite Tleilaxu enforcers called qran'Gei (kwran '[soft j]hee), whose battle prowess was fodder for whispered legends. With heavy, light-absorbing black garb and helmets, they were fearsome.  
In a corner opposite the open entrance, two sentinels sprawled in obvious poses of death, one without his lasgun rifle. Along the entrance's wall was a web of cracks identical to the one opposite it on the other side of the stone barrier. Below was a qran'gei that must have hit the wall stone enough to crack it and his helmet, because some trigger inside his armor was exposed to the antique air and released the acid which consumed the remains of all fallen qran'Gei.  
No man unblessed by Him or the axlotl tanks of his Masters of science could dream of overtaking a trio of Sentinels. But here unarmed!  
You have been expected, Aer'rhi, acolyte syn'Anonc. Deep for his age, and lacking doubt or fear of error or weakness without losing its humanity, the man's voice was had a bizarre power which made the young Tleilaxu insanely sure that he'd give his life for the stranger when asked. You may call me Taelyn. Where are we, boy? Start with the star system, and end with our location in this complex and how we may depart it undetected.  
The acolyte bowed as best he could from his half-sitting position and saw blood drip from his face to the floor and his white-robed shoulder.  
Immediately, qran'Taelyn, Twice Bless'd.  
  
  
qran'Taelyn at first had appeared invincible, immortal, and incredible. He seemed faster than the eye could follow, but it was eventually made clear that His Twice Bless'd had muscles and reflexes no more capable than the common Tleilaxu, or even Aer'rhi himself. This divine fighter had left twelve qran'Gei melting in their own acid, and incapacitated a score more of non-genetically improved guards by somehow _knowing_ their susceptibilities, and their actions before they took place.  
Sentinels were felled by thrown pebbles which struck their suicide devices and caused their acids to burn prematurely, or by amazingly accurate lasgun fire. The holy warrior saw the future, but how much of it?  
Aer'rhi saw the danger to his people, but he was held in sway by the man's voice, unable to resist leading him where he requested. During a heated battle in which qran'Taelyn dodged lasgun and projectile weapon fire, Aer'rhi was able to reach an Ixan communications relay station and record a message to His Interpretor, ruler of the tiny moon.  
The Interpretor would know His wishes, and undoubtedly send his own qran'il-Tveik (kran il 'veek) guardians, juggernauts bred extra-human in mental and physical potential. Every one was trained by cunningly obtained gholas of the powindah's best fighters throughout their history. The Bene Tlielax owned the immortal services of the infamous Lond Ivanova, Master-of-Assassins of House Richese two centuries ago, and the Butlerian's Jihad's Swordsmaster/General Kenth Becket, to name a few.  
Soon he would be saved. Aer'rhi would be put to death for betraying his people, but He would offer salvation for the acolyte's private sacrifice in His name.


	2. Chapter 2: Taelyn

  
The great tragedy of the true prescient is this: while all of Time flows through him, he must forever remain extra-temporal. While all people and all cultures flow through him, he must remain aloof in the knowledge that he is unique. While all knowledge and experiences are there for him to know, he may never have the wonder of what sets human above animal- the ability to experience novelty, react, and then learn.  
-Taelyn, Lord Protector of The Realm  
From the Journals of Aer'rhi, qran'Acolyte 2nd Plateau  
  
  
  


**Chapter 2: Taelyn**  


Taelyn landed with a dull thud that echoed just it had in the vision. He'd reached the temple's antechamber; the next door opened to the surface of Tleilaxu's moon. What arrogance, to name their star system, their homeworld, and their capital city after themselves. Even their religion was based on a belief that only their culture was worthy of His recognition. Still, they were his people, and the Bene Tleilax had a potential for such greatness  
The acolyte running behind him smelled nervious, and hadn't said more than simple directions for leaving the temple after his initial prayer in the cell that Taelyn had _known_ the boy would stumbled into. His power was called prescience by the Masters who'd loomed over him for longer than his clouded memory extended. It offered him glimpses of potentials, and usually showed him how to acheive them. It had allowed him flee to the moon temple's catacombs just as it had allowed him to escape the Masters. A mixed blessing, though, Taelyn suspected, as his power was the cause of the Masters' attention to him in the first place.  
Not knowing why it would work, he placed his thumb on a genetic scanner by the main door to the outside, which happily opened for him. Prescience was an uncertain and maddening science- it showed him what ends could be acheived by what means, but not how or why they did so.  
When the two meter polaz door had creaked far enough ajar, Taelyn ambled casually across the empty spaceport. There was an extra lightness in his step-- one aspect of the temple's physical training was living for years in twice normal gravity, and the surface of the tiny moon was only one-quarter normal gravity. The sky was deepening to a beautiful crimson from the setting sun, broken only by the green orbs of another moon and Tleilaxu itself, together directly overhead. It would have been a remarkable sight for one who'd never seen the surface of a planet, except that Taelyn had seen witnessed the spectacle hundreds of times in visions of this moment.  
He heard lasgun fire behind him, and spun, searching desperately for a place to hide. The unfamiliar but comforting weight of a stolen projectile pistol struck his thigh. The spaceport was an open field with no ships nearby to offer cover. He was caught in the open! Why hadn't he seen this coming? He'd flawlessly forseen and countered every move of every adversary thus far, but a period on the twisting and crossing paths of time was unreadable. Timelines, including the one he was following, went into this void, and twice as many potential timelines came out the other side. A few showed Taelyn dead, but most featured his capture and a continuation of the Masters' torturous study he'd barely escaped the first time.  
It seemed they'd been ordered to take him alive if possible.  
He would never go back to the Masters' labs, he swore (and a few potential timelines of his capture disappeared). Taelyn would be the first to say that he was no hero, but a cornered animal facing death, or worse, becomes capable of amazing feats.  
Taelyn could see now there were three qran'il-Tveik guardians sprinting toward him. He had a short moment of foolish pride that he meritted the talents of three of the supreme fighters of the Tleilaxu, before lasgun fire incinerated ground in front of him. He was thrown onto his back by the shockwave and debris, but the low gravity prevented serious injury.  
Terrible purposes! He was not going to die here! Fragmented visions of the battle to come hit Taelyn like slaps in the face, and the superhuman speeds of his opponents became normal, then slower, as if they moved through water. His brain had forced itself to a higher level of awarness, as his mental reflexes moved at an impossible speed.  
Perhaps his mind had _known_, presciently, the only way to survive.  
With his heightened awarness, Taelyn could see that the block on his visions was really other splitting timelines crossing his, and pushing them onto different courses. Someone else was prescient! He could see himself battle two of the guardians, but not the third, and lost the thread of the vision whenever one of her actions effected him. The Masters had a potential prescient under their upturned noses. The guardians were ten meters away, but would take hours to reach Taelyn; he had time for irony.  
He sat up, legs crossed, in a meditative pose, and willed time to move faster. The guaridans had a burst of speed, but still advance at a comfortable pace. It was amazing how efficiently they moved, without unnecessary bobbing or glances away from their objective. He watched the female, the potential prescient, for a long time. She had a pretty face, and he wondered what she was shaped like under her light combat armor.  
Mentally rested and prepared for battle, Taelyn pushed off a large piece of debris at his feet, and aided by the low gravity executed a perfect back flip in mid-air. His feet finally made contact with the side of a small passenger shuttle behind him, and he pushed off it back toward the guardians. He drew his stolen pistol, and, still in the air, began unloading it at them.  
As soon as they saw the weapon, they began to dance through a complicated series of evasive manuvers, avoiding even prescience-guided shots with ease. The female dodged left, one ducked to the right, and the third jumped straight up. He had already gone up two meters before flipping so that he was looking straight down his lasgun at his black-garbed target. Taelyn was twisting in the air to get a clear shot at the the biggest threat to him, the female, when a bullet tore though his left thigh.  
He lost his concentration, and the world sped up again. Landing hard on his right shoulder, a jolt of pain to shot down his arm. Taelyn rolled again, and felt a shower of concrete exploding from the place he'd had just been.  
Bringing his left arm up to fire, his was in control again. Seconds once again stretched into hours as his potent mind took stock of his situation.  
The man above had missed completely with an entire round (Taelyn had somehow subconsciously avoided every shot), and was reloading as he landed. The guardian that had dodged right had removed an object from a pocket that he would throw in four seconds and would explode in twelve a pace to the right of where Taelyn lay.  
The female who'd shot Taelyn remained the largest threat-- her light lasgun rifle was leveled at his head, and her finger hovered just off the trigger. Her lips moved dramatically and one corner of her mouth was beautifully agitated, but Taelyn's mind was processing too quickly to make sense of the slow and deliberate words.  
  
  
He couldn't remember being without his prescience, and for the first time in his life was truly excited. The over two guardians wouldn't bother him for another eight seconds at least, and with the slowed timeflow his mind showed him, and occasional visionary overlays of reality, Taelyn could really enjoy this fight.  
The most obvious move was to duck and hope to shoot faster than her, and so he flipped backwards again. She was admirably quick to overcome her confusion, but a moment was all Taelyn needed. He landed on his unwounded leg and, with help from the weak gravity, launched off it again. As he flew toward her, her erratic shots missed by inches-- as soon as they left her gun, she no longer effected them, and Taelyn could _see_ their paths and avoid them. He brought the pistol to bear again, but couldn't fire. Here he saw perhaps the only person that could bring excitement to his life, even if she was his fanatical enemy.  
Taelyn landed with one foot in her stomach, knocking her gun aside with the other, and launched himself back to the shuttle, and rebounded toward the man who'd just finished reloading. With complete control and prescience once again, Taelyn dispatched both guardians and finally landed, in his arrogance, without checking his prescient vision.  
He grimaced as he landed on his wounded left leg, and pain shot up his side. He found himself a moment of agony later sprawled on the gound, and before he could gasp a breath, he felt a lasgun barrel press against the back of his head.  
You shouldn't have let me live, the female guardain whispered close to his ear.  
  
  
Ignoring his wound, Taelyn planted his feet and stood completely still. The guardain sprinted toward him and at the last moment jumped and flashed a foot toward Taelyn's unprotected head. He casually knocked the blow aside with his forearm. She recoved quickly and rained a barrage of blows on him, every one of which he blocked with a forearm or palm, on occasion rolling his head aside to dodge a fist which penetrated his whirling black shield. After minutes, only Taelyn appeared to be tiring, and a high kick finally connected with his right shoulder.  
A grin twitched to life in one corner of his mouth.


	3. Chapter 3: Alam AlMithal

  
Paradise on my right, hell on my left, and the Angel of Death behind.  
-Sirat, passage from the Orange Catholic Bible  
  
  
  


**Chapter 3: Alam Al-Mithal*  
  
**(*the apendix of Frank Herbert's Dune defines Alam Al-Mithal as the mystical world of similitudes where all physical limitations are removed)**  
**  


And what is it that you must do, Taelyn?  
I must make certain another of me can never be grown, that no one will command the limitless power I am cursed with until humankind is ready. Prescience! The temptations to rape time are infinite. I have _seen_! I have sat on the powindah's Lion Throne, I have forged my own throne. Seen proud empires shrivel, and even the Bene Gesserit enslaved. I have led the Tleilaxu on the greatest release of energy the universe has felt. I have ridden at the crest of jihad! Damn me, but in moments of weakness, I have looked to futures and craved them.  
Katreda could not believe what she was hearing. You have been given a great gift! Why not use it to make sure your goal comes to pass? All is for a reason- this could be your life's test.  
Of course you would think that. No, even if ends justified means, there is no stopping evolution. I was grown in an axlotl tank to have this power, but you have the potential as well, and who knows how many others. If I have learned anything from my mental sojourns, there is no such thing as coincidence.  
When I first awoke to my own potential, I forced the Masters to give me a larger dose of Pain, the ultimate awareness drug, than ever before. I madly clawed my way up threads of time, to ends more distant than any man should know.  
With every step, I felt my sanity slipping: billions of potentials increasing geometrically every day foward I pulled myself. The single timeline from which all chaos sprang was a great tree, which the organism that is humanity pulled itself down over millenia. I thought I was one of the dreamers, the shapers, the singers, the makers of magic! I was nothing!  
There will be legions led by men invisible to me because they, too, can break from time's chosen course. Wars, massacres, exoduses, worms! oh, the worms! and inevitable jihads, as the universe sighs and shudders with the release of pent sexual energy from racial consciousness. And then, after evolution and natural selection through stryfe, holocaust, and one apocalypes after another has made its claim, humanity will be a new organism.  
Somewhere, in the yet unplumbed depths, the tree had roots.  
Every human will be prescient. Humanity will find its true alam al-mithal, and become one with the universe and itself. All timelines will merge into one.  
And what did you see in this solitary timeline? Aer'rhi demanded.  
I had seen infinacy, and the second age of humankind. I let go, and fell- until the Masters revived me from the coma my subconscious must have put me into to save my sanity.  
There was a long pause as the acolyte and divine guardian digested the revelations shared with them of humanity's future. Finally, Taelyn broke the silence, yes, my insight-hungry friend, you may ask what plagues your mind.  
I thought you couldn't sense me! Katreda.  
Not in the way you are thinking, but the Bene Gesserit have spent, and will continue to spend, millenia learning to read the body language of others. There is not much that your face can hide from me.  
Aer'rhi gasped, Powindah witchery!  
No, useful powindah knowledge.  
Aer'rhi was silent for a long time after that.  
Then if I may, Taelyn- why are you telling us all this? Katreda asked, if you've seen futures, why not choose one and leave us where our usefulness as guides ran out?  
Because I am not that kind of man. I am not going to live the coward's way, sacrificing novelty and experience for safety and assured victory. Why you? Because you are invisible to me, and thus you are the only human I've yet discovered in the universe who could keep my life interesting and stop myself from ever looking at my own future in a moment of weakness.  
If your God is truly omnipotent, then he is infinitely cruel. I could never choose what timeline out of infinite potentials, what lives and accomplishments, deserve to live over another.  
But you are a prescient. By definition you create and destroy timelines with every thought--  
Aer'rhi interupted her concerned musing with a sudden outburst, but He is real! I've seen Him! In the qran'Orqgía, He comes to us...  
You see what you want to see. Do you recall the substance all but the orator drink just before each ceremony?  
Aer'rhi's tiny eyes burned His taqwa will be feirce! May the test-mashad for your noc'kai be on the front lines of the tahaddi al-burhan! May He--  
The subtle power in Taelyn's voice was enough to give his whisper the power of a shout. Aer'rhi mouth closed abruptly, though his face showed a struggle to open it again.  
You preach as if your religion is the first, and will be the last, Taelyn said, I have been force fed it as you have since, I suspect, before my axlotl tank-aided conception.  
You know that the Masters can reincarnate a human from a single cell, all memories intact ready to be reawoken. Is this not contrary your dogma? You believe that every pure, obviously meaning Tleilaxu, soul is prepared in life for an apocalyptic battle against the powindah for the sake of the universe.  
Aer'rhi finally found his voice. You mock me. What chance do I have against one who knows my every move long before I do?  
You are safe as long as you remain in her shadow.  
Suddenly remembering the shuttle's third passenger, Aer'rhi turned to demand sympathy from Katreda. Her seat was left empty, vacated it only seconds previous. The pale fabric lining was from a tulgey bush from a breeding cluster on the homeworld, and, Taelyn knew from infinite experience, retained indents only briefly.  
He found her in the back compartment, meditating, legs crossed on the floor with her back to him. Closing the door of the tiny, bare cell behind him, Taelyn stopped his hand just short of touching her cheek.  
He exhaled the Zensunni name long and carefully, cleansing his psyche with each sylable.  
Taelyn sighed and sat next to her, facing the unsympathetic door. He would be there when she woke.


End file.
